


oh it’s saturday night

by somepeoplearewild



Series: FUCK YOU SUCKER [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Job While Driving, F/M, First Time Blow Jobs, Frenemies to fuck buddies, Stiles is a Sub, Stydia if you squint and then close one eye and then close the other eye, future murder couple, movie theatre monkey business, probably not canon, roadhead, stiles is always a sub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-07 17:36:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14086089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somepeoplearewild/pseuds/somepeoplearewild
Summary: - I heard you like bad boys- Yeah?- Well, I’m bad at everything





	oh it’s saturday night

**Author's Note:**

> I literally tore this out of my asshole in like three hours so it could be horrible.
> 
> NOTE: some parts seem like dubcon, but I promise they’re not. Part of her thing is being able to sense certain “wills” and emotions. Also she’s indian/german. I’ll put a pic in. It’s gonna be a sims character. Don’t @ me
> 
> Lots of time jumps. Don’t kill me.

 

 

 

Maybe this wouldn’t be so entirely infuriating if the circumstances were just slightly different— if Stiles’ arm length wasn’t so awkward, if Stiles was ripped, if Stiles drove a Porsche, if Stiles’ _literal arch nemesis wasn’t dating the girl he’s been in love with since elementary school_.

But alas, Stiles has monkey arms, he devotes more time to his computer than to his body, he drives a 1980 junker, and his arch nemesis/daily tormenter Jackson Whittemore is dating the light of his life, Lydia Martin.

So yeah, excuse the fuck out of him if he doesn’t want to hear the latest on how Scott’s werewolf powers are getting him one step closer to getting laid— by the daughter of a prominent werewolf hunting family he might add. Scott is the textbook definition of ‘thinking with your dick’... if they put that kind of thing in a textbook.

“You could at least pretend to be interested.”

“Sorry, I was just wondering if dicks will fall off after a prolonged period of time with no one touching it.”

Scott smirks then. “You touch it enough I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“Fuck you, dude,” Stiles scowls, curling in around his lunch tray. Today is just one of those days.

“So...” Scott trails off after having a laugh, eyes flickering from side to side. “Have you seen Vanessa Fenske?”

“Since when do you know her name? Please tell me you’re not going for her after Allison. My social status can’t take that kind of beating.”

“First, there’s no one after Allison. B, I was _trying_  to say I think something’s up with her.”

“Like something normal or something...” Stiles trails off his voice, pulling a face to really emphasise what he’s implying.

“Like that.”

Scott discreetly motions over to a table on the other side of the cafe where a pretty black haired girl is sitting surrounded by a gaggle of dudes. Stiles briefly wonders if Scott can smell their boners, before wondering if Scott can smell _his_  boner because the girl is actually really hot, and Stiles is suffering from a condition called forced celibacy.

“What about her?”

“That’s Vanessa.”

If Stiles had a mouth full of water, he would have done a spit take. There’s no way in hell that’s Vanessa Fenske, the girl who somehow made it possible to be lower on the social food chain than Scott and Stiles themselves. Vanessa Fenske is only known for her tight buns and propensity for falling down staircases. Stiles had a project with her in eighth grade and her personality was so stale that it left a cardboard taste in his mouth just talking to her.

But this girl, she’s laughing with her head thrown back, dark wavy hair cascading down her back and over her shoulders. Stiles usually isn’t one to notice this, because in all honesty he’s a face man, but her body is insane, hourglass figure on full display under a white skin-tight v-neck and pink pleated skirt. No sixteen year old should look like that, and that’s what’s suspicious.

It reminds him of Erica, how she suddenly came to school with a new body and a new attitude. Except with Erica the confidence is all an act, and he can feel it radiating off Vanessa like heat waves. Erica is still searching for her identity; Vanessa knows who she is.

“Do you think she’s–“ Stiles says before he barks quietly at Scott, dodging the tater tot Scott launches at his face.

“I don’t know. I can’t tell in here; there are too many scents.”

“We have fifth period with her–“

“We do?”

“Yes. I was saying, since we have a class with her, maybe you can try to get closer to her.”

“Why me?”

“Because you have sweet puppy eyes that make people trust you and— oh yeah— _if she tries to break your spine you can defend yourself_.”

“I just got Allison to trust me again. I’m not doing that. You do it. You’re better at manipulating people anyway.”

Stiles cuts his reply off to give Scott an incredulous look. “Me? Manipulate?”

“Remember that time in fifth grade you convinced me to eat a worm?”

Stiles takes the final bite of his apple, tossing it onto the empty tray. “I didn’t convince you to do anything. I said, ‘Scott don’t eat that worm,’ and you said ‘You’re not the boss of me,’ and ate it. How is that manipulation?”

Scott’s eyebrows furrow as he tries to match up Stiles’ recounting of the worm incident with his own memory. Finally, he just shrugs, and stands up to throw his tray away.

Stiles smirks at his back. He totally told him to eat the worm.

••••

By the time fifth period rolls around, Stiles is thrumming with nervous energy. Stiles rushes into the room just in the nick of time, having spent an unmentionable amount of time trying to smooth his hair down in the bathroom between classes. He practically dives into the chair beside Vanessa, shooting her usual lab partner a fake apologetic look as she’s forced to relocate.

When he finally rights himself, he pulls out his textbook trying to glance at Vanessa discreetly, but failing miserably as she’s staring directly at him unimpressed.

“Oh, hey, Vanessa, Veevee, long time no speak, huh? How you been?”

“What do you want.”

Stiles’ heart stutters, fully ready to go into panic mode and abort the mission. The only reason he even thought he could do this was because she was all smiles at lunch, but now she’s just giving him this look like she wishes he was anywhere but beside her.

“I don’t want anything. Just wanted to catch up.”

“I don’t think I’ve said a single word to you in two years,” she replies, pale green eyes boring into him. “What makes you think I want to catch up now?” Her black eyebrows raise, head cocking slightly, and Stiles knows exactly what she’s talking about.

He tries. He really– he tries– but his eyes glance down for a millisecond, a glorious millisecond he will cherish forever.

“Go fuck yourself.”

Aaaaaand he blew it.

••••

Twenty minutes later, she’s still ignoring him as she pours sodium hydroxide into an Erlenmeyer flask with the kind of practised ease that Stiles fails to copy with his trembling hand, he hasn’t even gotten it into the graduated cylinder because he just finished cleaning up half a beaker of isopropyl alcohol he knocked off the counter.

They were supposed to split up their six reactions, but she’s already almost done with all of hers meanwhile he’s not even finished the first one.

“Don’t worry about your third one. I’ll do it.”

Stiles looks up in shock, pouring the chemical all over the counter. His startled apology is answered with a snicker, then a full on _ha!_  , the girl stifling her laughs with her elbow in a futile attempt to not draw the attention of the teacher.

“Fenske. Stilinksi. I didn’t realise there was any humor in nucleophilic substitution.”

Stiles looks over at Scott who gives him a thumbs up, but when he turns back to Vanessa she’s looking at him with a scowl, having watched the exchange.

Blew it.

••••

“Ask her on a date.”

Stiles looks up at Scott from organising his Pokémon card collection. The first thing he does is check the lunar calendar on his wall, and nope not a full moon. And Scott can’t get really get high. So why does he sound like a crackhead right now?

“I don’t know if you noticed her threaten me with a stirring rod. But, Scott, she snapped a glass stirring rod in half and pointed the sharp end at me.”

“You almost added acetic acid to your sodium-thingy. That’s like, bad. He told us at the beginning of class to be careful.”

Stiles tucks his holofoil Ninetails into its new pocket. “While that is true, what part of threatening my life makes you think she would want to go out with me?”

“Just try.”

••••

“So, Vanessa, you, me, a movie? Great I’ll pick you up at 7.... Hey, Vanessa. Movie?.... Oh, hey, I was just wond–“

“What are you doing?”

Stiles whips around, lacrosse gear clattering against the locker he was leaned on. He doesn’t really have a lot of time between his last class and practise, so his plan is to jet directly onto the field after this. That’s probably for the best so that when he’s horribly spurned he can work out all his embarrassment until he’s too tired to feel rejection. Works with Lydia all the time.

“Uhhhh, Vanessa. I was just– I was wondering–“

“Yeah, sure.” She pops her locker open, narrowly missing his face.

“You don’t even know what I’m asking.”

Vanessa looks up at him, raising her eyebrow which is kind of her _thing_ , he’s noticed. “You’re asking me on a date.”

Stiles splutters for a moment before conceding. “Pfft, I mean... yeah.”

“And I said, yeah sure.”

“To the date?”

“To the date.”

“Saturday?”

“Saturday.”

“So it’s a date?”

“It’s a date.”

“With you? And me?”

The girl’s rosy lips pull tight. “I will go on a date with you on Saturday. You know where I live.” With that, she shuts the locker and begins walking the opposite way down the hall.

“No I don’t!” Stiles exclaims, tempted to follow her, but he doesn’t want to look too eager.

“Your dad’s the Sheriff. Figure it out!”

••••

It’s _over_. This whole reconnaissance plan is officially placed on the back burner. Fuck the back burner. It’s nonexistent. It disappeared into thin air the moment her hand landed on his thigh in the movie theatre.

He tries to keep his cool, but his dick is one step ahead of his brain due to the redirected blood flow so excuse the fuck out of him if he can’t help the pathetic noise that wheezes out of him. It’s only them in the theatre, and now he understands why she insisted on seeing this action movie when it’s been out for two months.

“Stiles.”

A weird feeling overcomes him at the sound of her voice in his ear, his body relaxing into the seat as heat radiates down his spine. He thinks he replies but he doesn’t honestly know as her pillowy lips press against his. He does his best to follow her lead, mouth opening obediently to her advances. And, like, he never thought he would be one of those guys to come untouched, but he’s about to be one of those guys to come untouched from the sensory overload of her sugary perfume and her nimble fingers massaging his thighs through his jeans and those sinful lips mouthing sloppily down to a sweet spot at the base of his neck that he didn’t even know he _had_.

“Mmmm, sweetheart,” she hums in his ear, fingers dancing dangerously close to his boner. “All you have to do is ask.”

His lidded eyes gaze unfocused at the projection screen, as he slurs, “Ask what?”

He chases the feeling of her lips as she pulls away, arching into her. She levels her face with his, icy green eyes flooding black suddenly. “What I am.”

Stiles gasps, eyes wide and glassy as she grabs him through his pants and his body jerks into her touch. The last thing he remembers is an intense feeling of euphoria before he’s waking up to the end credits.

He scrambles out of the seat, completely disoriented, all the while Vanessa sits there staring at him nonplussed, crunching on cherryheads.

“What the _fuck_ happened?!”

“We were making out, and you creamed yourself.”

Stiles cringes momentarily, noticing the uncomfortable damp feeling in his boxers, before he springs into actions, slamming his hands down on the armrests on either side of her. She doesn’t even flinch, letting him put his face in hers as he growls out some vaguely threatening bullshit.

“I swear to god, if you don’t tell me what you are and what you did to me, I will make you tell me.”

She smiles at him, white teeth seemingly oddly sharp in the dim lighting. “That’s all you had to do from the beginning. Just ask. I mean, I only let you drag it out this far because I wanted to see you fumble– Also you’re kind of cute.”

He almost lets down his guard, but then he remembers her pitch black eyes right before he... you know.

“What. Are. You.”

“Succubus.”

And, yeah. Yeah, that actually makes a lot of sense. But is she possessed or has she always been a demon? The born-demon theory doesn’t add up because why would she pretend to be some nerdy weakling for fifteen years when she could have had it all?

The girl in front of him, she can have whatever she wants, whenever she wants from whomever she wants.

“Long story short, sixteenth birthday is a coming of age milestone for succubi and incubi. I, uh, completed the rite of passage and now my demon can be expressed.”

“What’s the rite of passage?”

She sighs in relief as the lights click on and a sour-faced attendant walks in with a broom.

“I’ll tell you in the Jeep.”

••••

“Spill.”

“So on the first full moon after your sixteenth birthday basically our mother Lilith goes crazy and tries to eat you and you have to rip out her throat and bathe in her blood. And some other stuff. It’s no biggie.”

“You bATHED IN HER BLOOD?”

“Well... yeah. My mom was just one of Lilith’s many manifestations. I didn’t kill her or anything. Anyway, let’s not dig too deep into that. I can make you feel _really_  good, Stiles.”

As much as Stiles knows this is a distraction tactic, again, he’s a teenaged boy so when her fingers go for his zipper he doesn’t think twice about letting her pop the button on his jeans and reach inside. In fact, the only thing he really needs to be thinking about is staying on the right side of the road and— oh fuck that was a stop sign.

The girl manoeuvres him out of his pants, hand stroking lazily. And just when Stiles thinks it can’t get any better, he hears the click of her seatbelt coming undone.

“Uhhh,” Stiles panics, “Don’t you want to, like... go on a couple dates or some _thingggggh_?” He overcorrects the Jeep into the middle of the road as she flattens her tongue against his dick and drags all the way to the tip, plush lips enveloping the head like a popsicle. “Oh my god. Holy fucking shit I’m gonna kill us. Holy fuck.” He gasps, one hand leaving the steering wheel to instinctively hold the back of her head as she begins bobbing up and down.

He lifts his foot off the gas pedal when he realises he’s pushing 60 in a 35.

She pulls off just long enough to say, “If this car stops, I stop,” before diving back in, and fuck if he doesn’t floor it.

The wet sounds coming from her mouth and knowing that a real life _hot_  girl is sucking his dick while he’s driving are really doing it for him. He gets in one good thought about coming on her tits before his hand is tightening in her hair as he forces his dick further down her throat. The velvety muscles contract around him, milking pulse after pulse of cum. His moment of ecstasy is shattered by a honking horn as his eyes fly open and he jerks the steering wheel just in time to avoid an oncoming car.

Vanessa laughs as she sits upright, and when he looks over at her incredulously, he notices a manic glint in her eyes that he can’t decide if it’s sexy or scary or both.

It’s both.

“So how was it?”

“Aside from the near death experience?” he replies sarcastically.

“Come on, be honest. I’ve never done it before.”

“Road head?”

“Any head.”

Stiles eyebrows shoot to his hairline. “There’s no way.”

“I’m not gonna lie, I kind of tested out my abilities on you tonight. That’s uh... why we had the little passing out mishap— sorry for that by the way. I, uh, ramped your endorphin levels way too high. I was excited.”

“So were you feeding on me? Isn’t that the whole point of succubi?”

“Kind of. I can only feed through fucking or killing, and I didn’t fuck you or kill you. Not to mention, I can still sustain myself on normal food. It’s just, if I want to get stronger as a succubus, I’m eventually going to need to fuck or kill someone.”

“Kind of like when werewolves kill. That makes sense.”

“I knew you’d understand.”

••••

The following Monday Stiles approaches Vanessa where she’s digging through her locker. He leans against the locker beside her, thumbs hooked on the straps of his backpack. “I heard you like bad boys.”

Vanessa glances him with a coy smile. “Yeah?”

“Well I’m bad at everything.”

Her lashes flit as her eyes look him up and down. “Not everything, I hope.”

“Only one way to find out.”

**Author's Note:**

> I think this is my first published teen wolf fic, pls give me feedback. I have another one in the works that’s like 30,000 words in the making ft suddenly-a-girl!stiles so let me know if you’re interested


End file.
